“Cyrus,” Llysa shouted, her head barelyvisible above the verge of the chasm.
Cyrus hesitated. What if this was the answer to his prayers?
“Please!” she screamed, grasping and straining towards the edge.
He gazed at the pit, unable to move…
“Do something!” she shrieked, herexpression a mix of terror and fury.
Cyrus’ daze broke. He scrambled over to the edge and began to pull atthe waterline. Llysa’s cries echoedwithin.
“Try to climb back up,” Cyrus yelled.
Wiry fingers emerged from the cave-in, gripping the swelling tube. Cyruscrawled forward on all fours. He grasped the back of Llysa’s right hand. The hose could no longer support the drill’s weight. It tore free, whipping andspraying like a severed artery. The drill dropped into darkness. The leathersnake slapped Cyrus’ injured ribs, kicking him to the dirt and folding him uplike a crumpled napkin.
“Noooo,” he groaned, his side on fire.
Several moments passed before…
Sploosh!
The drill hit what sounded like water far, far below.
“Help!” Llysa shrieked.
Her fingers clung to the edge like claws, tearing desperately at theearth. Cyrus found himself again hoping she would slip. Then she did, her handsvanishing from sight. Oh Angels, what have I done? Cyrus thought. Helistened to her cries descend into the nothingness as his mind reeled and chestwheezed.
Sploosh!
Silence. She was gone…
“What’s going on?” Niels shouted, running down the slope.
Cyrus turned, trying to catch his breath.
“Mom fell,” he gasped, fighting for air.
He pointed a shaking finger at the newly exposed chasm. The pit staredback at them, dark and bottomless.
Chapter 8
HOBLKALF’S WAR
CYRUS AND HIS BROTHER burst intothe town hall, past the mayor’s secretary and straight into Mayor Hoblkalf’s office.
“Mr. Mayor, we need your help,” Niels demanded, “My Mom’s fallen into apit, and she’s going to die if we don’tdo something!”
The ninety-two-year-old man sat slouched in his chair, snoring like apig. Cyrus felt he resembled a shriveled potato that smelled of wet boots andcigar smoke.
“Mayor Hoblkalf!” Niels shouted, forming ablow-horn with his hands.
On the desk in front of Hoblkalf, laid a sheetof paper with titles such as The Hoblkalf Games, The HoblkalfStone Cutting Project and The Hoblkalf Twenty-FourHour Work Day Project. All had been crossed out in red ink.
“Mr. Mayor,” Cyrus said, gently shaking Hoblkalf’sshoulder.
Reluctantly, the three-and-a-half-foot man awoke from his slumber. Hestraightened his tie and smoothed back his bald head, mumbling something aboutthe good old days.
“Mayor, we need your help,” Niels repeated, “My Mom’s fallen into a pit,and we can’t rescue her by ourselves.”
At first, Hoblkalf did not seem to hear asingle word. He looked more preoccupied with trying to ignite his cigar. But asNiels explained that the very earth had opened up and swallowed his motherwhole, the mayor’s eyes began to twinkle, and he started to pace the room witha bounce in his limp.
“She’s still alive,” Niels said, “We heard her screaming, and we promised we’d get help. If we don’t gether out of there as soon as possible, she’s going to drown or freeze to death.We need to do something NOW!”
“We’re going to need the whole village in on this rescue operation,” themayor said, “I’ll fill out the paperwork and order an emergency town meeting.You two ring the town bell.”
***
A HALF HOUR LATER, the entirevillage waited outside the town hall.
“What’s taking the Mayor so long?” Niels growled through clenched teeth.
He paced beside Cyrus, squeezing his hands into fists.
“What do you think we’re doing here?” Cyrus heard another person say.
“I reckon the old coot’s ready to admit he’s too old to be mayor,”answered another, “I bet his son Lars is finally taking over.”
“That senile bag of skin hasn’t done anything for us since that Hoblkalf Waterworks Project some forty years ago.”
As the town folk prattled on, Cyrus could hear coughing and yelling from inside the mayor’s office. Hissecretary burst through the front doors, crying and leaving a trail of papersin her wake, as she ran off down the main street. This caused further buzzamong the suspense-filled mob.
With a great cloud of cigar smoke, the mayor emerged from his balconydoor. The villagers grew silent. Hoblkalf leaned onhis cane and hobbled across the banner-draped terrace, towards a largeplatform. The sun glinted off his head as if it was silverware. He limped upthe steps, took a giant puff from his grumpweedcigar and shuffled some papers around on the stand in front of him. Then headjusted his monocle and scrunched his beady eyes, inspecting the speech beforehim. Hoblkalf opened his codfish-like mouth and brokeinto a fit of coughing and hacking. When the attack subsided, he cleared histhroat and began again.
“My fellow citizens, I am sorry to interrupt your busy day, but I bringurgent and distressing news. We the hard-working people of Virkelot Island are under ATTACK!”
Hoblkalf smashedhis fist down on the podium. The crowd jumped and began to chatter likechickens.
“Eh-hem, it seems the Sea Zombie has executed a surprise attack, spearheaded at the LongBones farm. We are not sure theextent of her plans at present, but we do know her first goal was to captureone of our own and hold her ransom,” Hoblkalf paused, staring soberly into theaudience, “No word of her demands as yet, but we predict a request to tear downthe Dead Fence and the surrender of our everlasting souls. Never, I say,NEVER! We do not make deals with demons or assassins.”
“Hear, hear,” shouted a toothless, old man in the crowd.
What is the Mayor talking about? Cyrus thought. He turned to his brother. Niels lookedbewildered.
“It is not clear at this time why the LongBonesfarm was targeted, but what we do know isthis. We must fight them hard, and we mustfight them fast. They may come from land, sea or sky. We must join forces andbattle the Sea Zombie’s army tooth and nail, down to every last man, woman, and child. Any questions?”
“Mr. Mayor -” Niels shouted.
“Good, let’s get to work,” interrupted Hoblkalf.
The crowd
